


hostage situation

by happyrobins



Series: baby!Damian AU [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Baby!Damian AU, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Guns, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyrobins/pseuds/happyrobins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>baby!Damian is kidnapped, and Robin!Jason and Bruce have to rescue him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hostage situation

“Keep your hands where I can see them. Try anything, and the kid’s dead. I’ll shoot him.”

The barrel of the gun is pressed against Damian’s head. Dull, deadly metal against his dark hair, poised just above his ear, ready to fire at any moment. His mouth is covered with silver duct tape. His hands are tied behind him. He’s only four years old and these shitheads kidnapped him from his violin lesson this afternoon, demanding a ransom for his life.

Bruce would pay any amount of ransom for one of his sons back, but in this case money isn’t enough to guarantee Damian’s life. The suspects are known killers, some of them. Damian needs Batman and Robin.

It took them hours to track down the hideout, and once they were inside they decided to split up to search. It was just chance that Jason found the room with Damian first. He took down the others in the room, easy, then managed to chase down and corner the one guy who snatched up Damian and tried to escape. The only problem is that Jason didn’t disarm him in time.

Damian’s an infuriating little brat, and sometimes he makes Jason want to rip his own hair out in frustration, but right now Jason would give up anything to make that gun against his little brother’s head disappear. Anything to keep the kid around to bug him and sabotage his math homework another day.  _Everything_  for Damian to be safe.

“I don’t even wanna hear a word out of you,” the thug tells Jason. “You understand me, boy?”

Jason nods once, slowly. Silent, even though there are a dozen venomous threats he wants to spit at the man. He can’t risk anything, can’t do anything but play along.

He wonders what’s taking Bruce so long. He must have run into more of those goons. Jason almost feels sorry for whoever’s slowing him down—anyone who gets between him and his search for his son is going to be in a world of hurt.

Jason wishes he was here right now, but he’s also relieved he isn’t. Just the thought of how he might react, being here, seeing this… it’s scary.

“Ditch the belt. Give it here. I know all about your tricks. If you look like you’re going to do something funny, I’ll pull this trigger and you’ll have to explain to Wayne how it’s your fault his brat’s dead.”

Jason doesn’t look at the kidnapper. He looks at Damian instead. The kid’s eyes are round with fear, but there’s no tears, no sniffling, no crying at all. He looks a lot calmer than Jason feels.

The utility belt is tossed at the man’s feet. It doesn’t matter, Jason tries to convince himself. He doesn’t need any of it. When he takes down this piece of scum, it’ll be with his own fists.

“Now the mask,” the man demands. Becoming ambitious. Jason hesitates, and he tightens his arm around Damian’s neck threateningly. “Do it.”

Jason grits back an angry retort. His teeth grind. Slowly, he reaches up to his mask and starts working the edge, loosening the stubborn adhesive as much as he can. He doesn’t wince when he peels it off.

It’s dark, he reassures himself as he drops the limp mask on the floor. Much too dark for the guy to get a good glimpse of his face or the colour of his eyes. Mask or no mask, it doesn’t do the kidnapper any good. He’s too much of a coward to get a closer look.

The guy’s starting to sweat, Jason can tell. He’s starting to realize how fucked he is. His buddies are probably all down for the count—he’s the last one standing—and Batman’s going to be here any moment. There’s no chance he’s walking away from this free.

Damian’s life is in the hands of a desperate man. Jason has to act fast.

But, before Jason can think of a plan, the kidnapper grunts in pain and nearly drops the gun. Damian had managed to slip his hands out of the zipties while they weren’t paying attention, and he’s twisting the guy’s wrist in a way that’s gotta hurt like hell.

Jason recognizes the move—one of the little self-defense maneuvers they teach the kid when he won’t stop pestering them to teach him how to fight. It’s all they can do to make him happy, because he never takes  _no_  for an answer.

Everything happens so quickly that Jason barely has time to blink. Damian takes advantage of the arm around his neck loosening to wriggle free. The kidnapper tries to snatch back his hostage, his one bargaining chip, but Jason charges forward and gets between them. Jason lashes out with a kick, putting all his force behind it, driving his foot deep into the guy’s gut, and follows it up with a fist to his windpipe. He falls hard, choking.

The gun goes off when it hits the floor.

Jason tackles Damian, dragging him across the room. Kneeling in front of the boy, he checks Damian’s body in a panic, searching for blood, for the bullet wound, but there’s nothing. Damian’s fine. Spooked, but fine. The misfire must’ve careened harmlessly into the wall or the ceiling.

Jason almost laughs, he’s so relieved. He almost pulls Damian into a bone-crushing hug that will make him whine and scowl. But there’s no time for any of that—he spots the kidnapper crawling across the dirty floor. Crawling towards the dropped gun.

He doesn’t make it. Jason is already upon him, his veins pumping pure, acidic rage.

Broken nose. Broken jaw, broken teeth. Jason only distantly registers the blood splattering on his gloves as he keeps punching. Part of him warns himself to stop, that this isn’t how Bruce trained him to take down perps. But that’s drowned out by the anger and satisfaction, the part that insists  _he deserves it_.

The man reaches out and gropes blindly for the gun. Jason breaks his thumb with his heel and grabs the weapon himself.

“He’s a  _kid_ ,” Jason snarls. He presses his foot down on the guy’s throat. Not hard enough to crush it, just enough to scare him. Make him squirm. “Just a little kid. He’s still in  _preschool_. And you were gonna…”

His legs are shaking so bad he wonder how he’s still standing, but his grip on the gun is steady and sure. Jason keeps it pointed at the man’s face. His eyes go wide in fear and he gurgles something against the floor.

A voice in Jason’s ear snaps him back to sense.  _Bruce_. He relaxes his finger on the trigger. He hadn’t realized he was squeezing it that much.

“…Robin, report. What’s the hostage’s status?”

“He’s… He’s safe. I’ve got him,” Jason says breathlessly. Damian is staring at the bloody mess of a man on the floor, and Jason has to pull the boy over to his side and turn his face away so he’ll stop looking. A small hand clings to his cape. “We’re good.”

“I heard a gunshot,” Bruce says after a pause. His voice doesn’t shake, but his usual Batman rasp is softer, quieter, enough to make Jason realize how terrified he must have been.

Jason stares at the gun in his hand, startled, like he doesn’t remember how it got there. He shouldn’t have picked it up. It was a mistake.

“Just a discharge,” he assures Bruce. “The gun got dropped, but D— Wayne’s kid is fine. Only got a few scratches.”

“Take him to the car. I’ll finish up here.”

Jason grabs his utility belt off the floor and ties up the kidnapper for the cops. Panic floods him at the sight of the bloody, broken face. He didn’t mean to… Bruce is going to be so mad when he sees…

But it isn’t as bad as Jason first thought. It looks worse than it is. The guy’s face is the only thing bleeding. It’s messier than the usual incapacitations they dole out, but nothing too important was broken. He’ll definitely live. He’ll heal up fine, eventually. Jason could’ve done a lot more damage… had  _wanted_  to do a lot more damage… and that’s what makes him uneasy.

Jason turns to Damian. The kid is tugging at the thick duct tape over his mouth. The tape is wrapped around in layers—it’s going to be painful to get off.

“We’ll deal with that in a minute, ok, squirt? We need to get outta here first.”

Damian lets out an angry huff through his nose. Jason kneels down and hoists Damian up on his back. Damian loves piggyback rides, he loves feeling tall. His small arms cling tightly around Jason’s neck like he won’t ever let go.

Jason never wants to put him down, either. The weight against his back is familiar and reassuring. His anger has bled away, leaving him aching and tired.

He can feel Damian’s snuffly breaths against the back of his neck. They were so close to losing the little brat. Too fucking close. Tears well in Jason’s eyes and he blinks them away stubbornly, but he can’t get rid of the image of the gun pressed to Damian’s head, the finger curled around the trigger.

They reach the Batmobile without a problem. It takes a few minutes of careful peeling, but they get the tape off of Damian’s face. Then they wait for Bruce.

Damian crawls over and sits in the driver’s seat, looking tiny in a seat that’s designed for Bruce. He’s a strong kid, but he’s all shook up. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t say much.

He shivers like he’s cold, so Jason gives him his cape, which he wraps around himself like a cocoon. Only his dark-haired head pokes out.

“I want to go home,” Damian whines, pouting. “ _Now_.”

That’s so typical of the demanding little brat. Jason laughs and ruffles his hair, earning a scowl. He’s gonna be just fine.

Jason’s dreading going home because that means putting on a show for the reporters, and later explaining to Dick what happened. He’s out of the country on a mission with his team. He’ll be mad they didn’t tell him, but there was no point—he’s too far away, there is nothing he could’ve done except worry.

They don’t wait much longer. Bruce slides into the driver’s seat, pulling Damian into a consuming hug even as he’s closing the door behind him. For a long few moments he doesn’t even seem to breathe, just sits and holds the son he almost lost.

The skin of Damian’s wrists is rubbed painfully red and raw from the sharp-edged plastic zipties that held them together. Bruce kisses both wrists in turn, gently, and with utmost seriousness. It’s what Dick does whenever Damian gets some scrape or bruise, he kisses them better. Damian always puts up an act of protesting and squirming away from Dick, but right now he’s quiet and still.

Bruce finishes murmuring apologies in Damian’s ear and glances over at Jason.

“Good work tonight, Jason. I’m proud of you.” He sounds so grateful.

Jason smiles. Nods. The heavy weight of guilt lifts slightly. He was expecting a lecture, or the promise of a lecture, but it looks like he got off easy.

He didn’t fuck up. Well, maybe he did a little. But it was just the situation. Just the stress and the fear and the… the anger. Bruce also would have flipped out, seeing Damian threatened like that. Dick probably would’ve, too.

Damian ends up in Jason’s lap so Bruce can drive. The kid’s still wrapped up in his cape, and begins to doze off. It’s way past his bedtime. Jason presses his cheek against the soft hair on top of Damian’s head and makes a silent promise to never let any bad guys hurt his little brother again.


End file.
